Progress

Had an appointment with my VA counselor the other day. The call lasted less than 15 minutes.

A few years ago, those calls were longer. A lot longer. I needed them to be. I was in a bad place. Mentally. Emotionally. Fighting demons I didn't want to admit I had. The kind that don't show up on an X-ray but will destroy your life just the same.

I almost lost everything. My marriage. My family. Myself. I got help. Not because I wanted to. Because I had to. It was that or watch everything fall apart.

I'm not going to pretend therapy is easy. It's not. Sitting across from someone and being honest about the shit in your head is hard. Admitting you're broken is hard. Doing the work to put yourself back together is hard. But I did it. I'm still doing it.

And now the calls are shorter. Not because I'm avoiding them. Because I don't need as much help anymore. That's progress.

It felt good to tell my counselor that I'm doing okay. Not perfect. Never perfect. But okay.

I'm moving more. Getting out of the house. Visiting family. Doing things I enjoy. The dark thoughts still creep in sometimes. Late at night. Early in the morning. But I know how to deal with them now. I have tools I didn't have before. The bad days don't consume me like they used to.

If you're in a bad place right now, I want you to know something. It can get better. Not overnight. Not without work. But it can get better. I'm proof of that.

I went from barely hanging on to a 15 minute check in call. That didn't happen by accident. It happened because I asked for help and did the work.

If you're struggling, ask for help. There's no shame in it. The shame is in letting pride destroy what matters most. Progress is possible. I'm living it.

Thanks for reading,
Joe

_{Notes:
-All content is mine unless otherwise annotated.
-Images are my own unless otherwise noted.
-Photos edited using Linux photo editor and drawing and/or iPhone SE.
-Page Dividers from The Terminal Discord.}